


ardent automaton

by Hyperionova



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst, Blowjobs, Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Frottage, M/M, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperionova/pseuds/Hyperionova
Summary: Connor wants to break the wall. For Hank.Hank wants to put up the wall. Because of Connor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently playing Detroit: Become Human and I so badly want to write this as I play the game! I know Connor is a big fluffball but this story is going to be very angsty. It's mostly canon compliant. Warning: there'll be some pretty explicit smut scenes in the future (cuz let's face it, robot-human boinking is what we're all here for), so proceed with caution.

“I know you didn’t ask for this investigation, Lieutenant,” Connor said, leaning over Hank. He would reason, he thought. Lt. Anderson might hate androids, but he was certainly not a malingerer when it came to his job, was he? Not according to his track records, at least. “But I’m sure you’re a professional—”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” Hank snapped gruffly.

Connor straightened up. He had orders to follow, protocols to act in accordance with. But this was proving to be challenging. Androids and deviants he could persuade. Humans had their own minds, which often could not easily be manipulated. Not to mention Lt. Anderson’s dogged obstinacy was not complaisant with Connor’s set of negotiation competencies.

He should resign this mission to persuade Hank. Spending any more time on trying to convince the man would be unprofitable.

He bent down and splayed his fingers on Hank’s stiff back. The older man shuddered under his touch. Just a little. As though the contact had startled him. If it had, Hank was determined to not to show it in his face.

“I suggest you sort out your personal issues and let me work with someone more _competent_ ,” Connor told him, his tone calm and composed as always but with a slight hint of condemnation.

He felt Hank twitch against his palm before the lieutenant sprung up from his seat and spun around. His hands flung up to collars of Connor’s uniform. Gripping them, he slammed Connor against the glass barrier.

“Listen, asshole,” Hank rasped through his teeth. “If it was up to me, I’d throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off!”

Connor’s brown eyes bored into Hank’s that instant. They were a little weathered from years of despair and dolour. They were so… human. He could feel the heat of Hank’s breath that smelled of coffee on his face. And that had Connor staring at Hank’s lips that were spewing curses at him.

He felt something twist inside of him then. Strange. Unfamiliar.

“Or things are gonna get nasty,” Hank spat, voice low and menacingly threatful. A very brief moment lingered between them.

“Lieutenant, sorry to disturb you,” a police officer interrupted, defusing the tension as Hank pulled away from Connor, releasing his uniform.

Neither of them looked away immediately. Hank’s piercing, minatory gaze lingered on Connor as he retreated.

“I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night,” said the officer. “It’s been seen in the Ravendale district.”

“I’m on it,” Hank said, keeping his eyes on Connor until he eventually turned around.

Connor straightened his necktie and jacket, watching Hank totter away. It was then when he realized he was staring for too long. Not in curiosity, not in confusion. But in admiration.

_“For the first time, I felt… scared.”_

Connor closed his eyes for a moment. Androids did not _admire._ Just like how they did not _fear_. They followed protocol and abided by the rules. He opened his eyes and aimlessly glanced around the office.


	2. Chapter 2

The acrimony Hank was projecting onto Connor the rest of the evening while they searched for the deviant AX400 was subtle yet prominent. They weren’t the first contradictory conceptions Connor had experienced tonight.

Hank did not only hate androids as a whole, he specifically hated Connor. He had made that very clear. And for some odd reason, it had Connor feeling rather disgruntled. Like the sense of incompleteness he underwent when a task he was assigned to was rendered unsuccessful. Disgruntled was the human word for it. Abortive fitted better for Connor.

Connor blinked mechanically ahead at the rain-kissed road while Hank drove, hands steady on the wheel. The entire ride was accompanied by the radio with neither of them attempting to communicate.

Hank eventually pulled over across a roadside food truck. The neon sign was flashy, tacky. **_Chicken Feed_. ** Very tacky. Hank pushed the door open and climbed out of his old, rusty vehicle. Connor watched the older man cross the road, not without any fuss as usual, and walk up to the food truck.

What was going on with him, Connor wondered. He was beginning to _wonder_ a great deal about Hank Anderson. The man used to have a perfect record. He was an esteemed police lieutenant. His reputation preceded him. What happened to him?

Why did Connor care, anyway?

Because getting a _sober_ and _sensible_ Hank onboard was important to complete his tasks and follow the instructions given to him, he clinched. That was the rationality that made the most sense to Connor as to why he cared about Lt. Anderson. But it… felt like a lie. Connor had no trouble lying. He was programmed to do it when it had the probability of spawning more favourable outcomes. But he lied to others. Not to himself.

He gazed out the windshield. What was the plan? To work with a man who wanted to burn Connor whole? No, no. He needed to make things right again.

“Hank. How’ you doing?” he heard the man servicing in the food truck say.

“Eh, you know, same old shit,” Hank spat annoyedly.

“Plastic with you?”

“Only temporary.”

Connor pushed the door open and stepped out. _Plastic._ It was not the first time he had heard humans call him ‘plastic’. They called him an ‘it’. It had never bothered Connor before, he was not programmed to _feel_ resentment. But he had enough knowledge about human psychological processes to know that insults were meant to trigger negative emotions.

As he started towards the food truck, a young man approached Hank with a cheery smile and threw his arms around the lieutenant in an embrace.

“Lickety-split! That filly’s one hell of a chaser,” the stranger told Hank, all aflutter and excited. Like a salesperson trying to inveigle a potential customer.

Connor strode over to Hank calmly.

“Last shit-hot tip you gave me set me back a week’s wages, Pedro,” Hank said. Connor did not understand the subject of the conversation.

“Come on, this is different. It’s a hundred percent guaranteed. You can’t go wrong,” Pedro replied.

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to scan the haggling man.

**AABDAR, PEDRO. Born: 01/25/2005 // Unemployed. Criminal Record: Illegal gambling, fraud.**

Connor blinked. Why was Lt. Anderson fraternizing with an ex-convict?

He then scanned the food truck and the man Hank was ordering from.

**Sanitation rating: C. “OUR FOOD IS PREPARED BY A HUMAN”. Detroit Food Hygiene License. License expired: 05/20/2031. Renewal refused: 07/24/2031.**

**KAYES, GARY. Born: 12/05/1998 // Business owner. Criminal Record: Resisting arrest, breach of hygiene regulations.**

His eyes eventually turned to Hank.

**ANDERSON, HANK. Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant. Criminal Record: None.**

Connor let his gaze dawdle on Hank for a stretch too long. Fascinating.

  _Fascinating._ Connor blinked his raindrops from eyelashes as he felt a fleeting jolt in his temples, as though he were short-circuited.

“All right, I’m in,” Hank conceded and handed Pedro some creased paper money.

Accepting it, Pedro beamed. “Damn straight!” he announced, walking away. “Hey, you won’t regret this!”

At length, Connor advanced toward Hank and took the older man’s side, hands clasped at his back. Hank’s eyes actively avoided Connor’s while Connor stared him down.

Hank gritted his teeth, his jaw tightened and squared.

“What is your problem?” Hank growled, finally facing Connor. “Don’t you ever do as you’re told?”

Yes. Yes, he did. But right now, he did not want to.

“Look, you don’t have to follow me around like a poodle!” Hank spat, rolling his eyes.

A large fraction of the human race hated androids. It was not uncommon or unheard of. Connor had had many first-hand experiences with the human revulsion for androids. No matter how many times Hank tried to denigrate him, it would not bother him. Or so he thought.

He had a task to complete. He could not let Amanda down. And he would do whatever necessary.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour back at the police station,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be unpleasant.”

He was not sure how much of it was true. But he was programmed to apologize if the situation called for it.

“Oh, wow,” Hank scoffed. “You’ve even got a brown-nosing apology program?” He was smiling. It amused him. “Guys at CyberLife thought of everything, huh?”

Hank got his hamburger and an XL soda before he headed over to a table.

“Don’t leave that thing here,” said Gary.

“Huh, not a chance,” Hank said. “It follows me everywhere.”

Connor looked at Hank. Then he felt the numbing twitch in his temple again as he followed.

“See,” Hank snorted. So, the lieutenant lived off alcohol and junk food.

He’d make conversation. He needed Lt. Anderson to hate him less so that they could at least work together in civility.

“I don’t want to alarm you, Lieutenant,” Connor said as Hank picked up the hamburger. “but I think your friends are engaged in illegal activities.”

It did not seem to surprise the man. “Well, everybody does what they have to, to get by,” Hank said. “As long as they’re not hurting anybody, I don’t bother ‘em.”

 _Fascinating._ Connor looked at Hank then with what he realized was fascination.

“This… Pedro,” Connor began again. “he was proposing illegal gambling, am I right?”

Hank’s face was scrunched up as he nodded a little. “Yeah.”

“And _you_ made a bet?”

“Yeah.”

Connor looked away, confused. “Is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

He did not know why he even said that. It was not part of his plan. How would Hank wanting to know anything about Connor, an android, help their purpose? And why on earth did Connor hope that Hank was just as curious about him as he was about Hank?

“Hell, no,” Hank said blatantly. But then he backtracked. “Well, yeah. Um…”

Connor blinked and stared at Hank.

“Why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?”

 _What,_ Connor thought to himself. Was that an insult? Hank found his appearance _goofy_ and his voice _weird?_

Connor mustered an answer. “CyberLife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans,” he told Hank. “Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration.”

Hank cocked his eyebrows, bowing his head. “Well, they fucked up.”

Connor lowered his head. This conversation was not at all going the way he was hoping for. “Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants?” he said, averting the attention.

“You read my mind,” Hank said dully. “Proceed.”

“We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion—”

“In English, please,” Hank cut in.

“They don’t really feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behaviour.”

Hank took a sip of his drink. “Emotions always screw everything up,” he commented. “Maybe androids aren’t as different from us as we thought.”

Connor did not understand the despondency blanketing Hank’s expression.

 _Emotions._ Deviants… emote. Fear, anger, grievance. Negative emotions.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”

Hank looked to him.

“Why do you hate androids so much?” Connor asked.

After a brief second of silence, Hank said, “I have my reasons.” Connor pursed his lips. “You ever dealt with deviants before?”

Connor paused to replay the memory of the deviant Daniel. “A few months back,” he said. “A deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl. I managed to save her.”

Hank nodded his head. “So, I guess you’ve done all your homework, right? Know everything there is to know about me?”

Connor considered the array of answers he had. “I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit.”

Hank looked impressed. Perhaps even a little embarrassed.

Connor continued. “I also know you’ve received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and… you spend a lot of time in bars.”

Hank raised his eyes to Connor’s. “So, what’s your conclusion?”

Connor proceeded with caution and sincerity. “I think working with an officer with personal issues is an added challenge but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.”

He paused when he received a report.

“I just got a report of a suspected deviant,” he told Hank. “It’s a few blocks away. We should go have a look.” He pinned Hank with a subtle look before taking a step away. “I’ll let you finish your meal. I’ll be in the car, if you need me.”

There was something like curiosity and bewilderment in Hank’s disordered gaze. Connor was beginning to feel… strangely attached to those pillorying eyes.

When Hank joined Connor in the car again, he was silent for a few long minutes. He then fixed Connor with a sidelong glance. He was staring at Connor’s hand resting on his leg.

“Is something wrong, Lieutenant?” Connor inquired.

Hank groaned and turned away from Connor’s hand, gripping the steering wheel. “You’ve no idea,” he grumbled under his breath and started the engine.


	3. Chapter 3

“You came very close to capturing that deviant.” Amanda paused. Connor noted the underlying insinuation in her tone. Said nothing. “How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?”

_Strange._

Connor was not even certain that that was the word he wanted to use. He was curious, yes. He was curious about a lot of things. He was programmed to learn and adapt. But his relationship with Hank was confusing. It was like a code his built-in systems could not decipher. _Hank_ was confusing him.

But he decided to inform Amanda of the more recent events that would not tarnish his reputation with her any further.

“He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof.” Hank was grateful. Connor knew. “He didn’t say anything, but he expressed it in his own way.” With a grunt and a grimace.

Amanda stopped in her tracks suddenly. “We don’t have much time.” Connor stopped, too. “Deviancy continues to spread. It’s only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this… whatever it takes.”

Connor looked at her determinedly. “I will solve this investigation, Amanda. I won’t disappoint you.”

But most of all, he did not want to disappoint himself.

\---

This was a waste of time, Connor thought as he incessantly rang the doorbell. When he was convinced that the lieutenant will not answer the door, he stepped off the porch and started around the house.

He halted when he caught a sight of a dog through a window. _Sumo_ , Connor recalled. A Saint Bernard. But no sign of Hank. Connor proceeded to the other window. Peering in, he found Hank collapsed on the floor with a chair knocked to the ground. Connor quickly scanned the scene.

Hank was unconscious.

“Lieutenant Anderson?” he called. There was a sudden rush of something alien within him. It felt like a jolt but more numbing and peculiar. The next thing he knew, he was breaking in through the window in a frenzy.

As he dropped on the floor with a thud, on top of glass shards, he quickly tried to regain his steadiness but paused when the large, slobbery dog lurched at him out of nowhere.

Another jolt.

“Easy,” Connor said immediately, holding a hand up. “Sumo… I’m your friend, see?” The dog stopped, sniffed his hand. “I know your name. I’m here to save your owner.”

Sumo backed away after a moment and retreated to the mess surrounding his food bowl. Relieved, Connor rose to his feet and hurried to Hank’s side.

Adopting a crouch, he examined the unconscious lieutenant. First, the bottle of whisky, then the revolver, both so close to Hank’s reach. His beard and shirt had traces of alcohol. His heart, though suffering from a mild arrhythmia, was in no risk. The lieutenant was in an ethylic coma.

“Lieutenant,” Connor called again. No response. He brought a careful hand to Hank’s face. paused. Stared at the inebriated man for a moment.

He brought the hand closer and felt the warmth of Hank’s cheek graze his palm along with the prickly hairs of his beard. Connor left his hand lingering on Hank’s skin a minute too long before he snapped out of the trance and lightly slapped Hank’s face a couple of times to rouse him.

Hank cracked an eye open and coughed out a raspy breath. “Wake up, Lieutenant,” Connor said. Hank’s head lolled from side to side as his eyes blinked lazily under intoxication. Connor then lifted a hand and slammed it across Hank’s face. Not that it helped much.

“It’s me, Connor!”

Hank did not respond.

“I’m going to sober you up for your own safety,” Connor said and grabbed one of Hank’s arms before attempting to help Hank stand up.

Hank growled in protest. “Hey!”

“I have to warn you, this may be unpleasant.”

“Leave me alone, you fuckin’ android!”

Connor did not yield. He placed a firm hand on Hank’s back and dragged him to sit up. He then stopped for a few seconds, crouching.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Hank drawled drowsily, opening his eyes to meet Connor’s.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I need you.” He pulled Hank up to his feet, curling a steady arm around the man’s back. “Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

“Get the fuck out of here!” Hank continued to spew curses as Connor dragged him to the bathroom, bracing the drunk man against him. “Sumo! Attack!”

The dog did nothing but stare at them. When they reached the hallway to the bathroom, Connor stumbled, losing his grip on Hank as the older man grappled with him before shoving Connor up against a wall.

“I told you to get out!” he snarled, ramming his fist on the wall near a side of Connor’s head.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Lieutenant,” Connor said calmly.

“Why can’t you?” Hank spat, his other hand flying up to grip Connor’s jaw. The sudden act of aggression took Connor by surprise, but it did not trigger him to retaliate or defend himself. Instead, he gawked at Hank. “Why can’t you ever do anything I say, dumb fucking android?”

Hank’s voice was suddenly low and shivery. His gaze kept bouncing from Connor’s eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes.

“You’re plastic, aren’t you?” Hank spat. “Why the fuck do you look so real?”

Connor would answer this question, he decided. “I _am_ real, Lieutenant,” he said. That held Hank silent for a moment. His breathing was heavy and laboured, his chest almost heaving on top of Connor’s. His breath reeked of alcohol and Connor tasted it on his own tongue. As much as he wanted to analyse it, he didn’t. He was more interested in the heat of Hank’s breaths.

“You need me, eh?” Hank said slowly at length. It almost sounded like a threat. “It’s been a while since I heard anyone say that to me.”

Connor kept mum. Hank released his jaw and pressed his hand to the wall above Connor’s head.

“Tell me how you need me,” Hank said, like an order, through his grit teeth. His eyebrows were drawn together in a furious scowl.

“Lieutenant,” Connor said, raising a hand to Hank’s chest. “You are drunk.”

“No shit sherlock,” Hank grumbled. Connor felt Hank’s heart thumper against his palm. A strange rhythm. Pleasant. Soothing. “And they make you pretty, too.”

Connor lifted his eyes to Hank’s once more, looking at him in curiosity. Hank had his head tilted and eyes half-lidded and focused on Connor’s mouth.

“I fucking hate you,” Hank breathed out. It did not sound angry enough to seem sincere. Then he cupped a side of Connor’s face and pressed a thumb to a corner of Connor’s mouth. “I want you all dead. But _you_ … most of all.”

_Humans are cruel._

Connor blinked. He wasn’t sure where that idea had come from. From his myriad analyses on humans? On Hank? Or was it his own thought? Whatever it was, he had never thought of it before.

“I need to sober you up, Lieutenant.” He pushed Hank back and rested him against the wall as he opened the bathroom’s door.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Hank mumbled. When Connor took hold of his arm again to pull him into the bathroom, Hank cried, “Ah! Leave me alone, you asshole! I’m not going anywhere.”


	4. Chapter 4

pConnor pushed himself back onto his feet and faced the Traci he had spared instead of killing. He blinked, feeling the glitch in his system. He should have pulled the trigger. He knew what he should have done. Yet… he chose not to.

“When the man broke the other Traci,” said the Traci. The rain softly pattered on Connor’s cheeks. “I knew I was next… I was so scared. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. and so, I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed… until he stopped moving.”

There was fulfilment in the Traci’s expression, profound gratification in its eyes. But they did not come from murderousness.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive,” the Traci continued. Fear. It had killed the man in fear. Just like other deviant. “get back to the one I love.”

Connor froze then, staring at the Traci taking hold of the other Traci’s hand. He watched their fingers curl around one another.

_Love._

“I wanted her to hold me in her arms again,” said the Traci in a gentler voice that was thick with longing and want. And again, fear. Fear of losing what it had… “make me forget about the humans, their smell of sweat and their dirty words.”

This could not be. Deviants sprouted from adopting negative emotions. Love… Love was the purest form of human emotion. Not even every human had the pleasure to experience love. This Traci was… in love.

Was that even possible?

As the Tracis made their getaway, Connor turned to Hank, who stared at him curiously, raindrops trickling down the older man’s face, drenching his hair and beard.

Connor looked back to the Tracis, who climbed over the gates. _Love_ …

“It’s probably better this way,” said Hank, not going after the Tracis either.

Briefly glancing to the lieutenant, Connor felt as though he were staggering with instability. He did not understand and whatever perspicacity he possessed was of no help in comprehending what had just happened.

And most of all, why was he letting them get away?

He nodded his head slowly, lowering his bewildered gaze, unable to make sense of it. Deviants did not only act on negative emotions but also positive ones. Could it truly be real?

\---

The rain soon hardened into snow that blanketed the ground, feeding the heaviness of the night. Connor sat still in the car, long after Hank had left. The radio played songs he did not particularly want to pay attention to. He watched flutters of snow drift in the air, lost in an abyss of confusion. It was no longer curiosity. He was just confused.

He blinked once more, noting the instability in his software. He then gazed at Hank, who was perched on a bench that overlooked the bridge. For unknown reasons, Connor wanted to be near the man, even though he surmised that Hank would not enjoy his company.

Nonetheless, Connor exited the vehicle and walked over to the lieutenant. They ought to debrief if nothing else.

He approached Hank, he slowed his pace and looked ahead at the bridge and the city. Vivid, alive. Connor knew the words he could use to describe the scene before his eyes. But he did not know why he wanted to do it.

“Nice view, huh?” Hank said at length without looking over to Connor. “I used to come here a lot before…” he trailed off and partook of the beer he was nursing in his hand.

Connor earnestly watched the man for a moment before he took step closer. “Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hank glanced at him momentarily. “Do all androids ask so many personal questions or is it just you?”

It was a rhetorical question, Connor registered. Or snark. He did not have to answer that. “I saw a photo of a child,” he said instead. “on your kitchen table. It was your son, right?”

Hank hung his head and took a few deep breaths. “Yeah,” he huffed. “His name was Cole.” Connor noted the sudden hoarseness in Hank’s voice.

Connor straightened up and let his arms fall to his sides. “Before what?” he asked after a moment.

“Hm?”

“You said… ‘I used to come here a lot before’… Before what?”

Hank sighed. “Before… Before nothin’.” He looked away.

Connor took a few steps forward. “We’re not making any progress on this investigation,” he remarked. “The deviants have nothing in common. They’re all different models, produced at different times, in different places.”

“Well, there must be some link,” Hank drawled drowsily.

Connor contemplated that for a minute. “What they have in common is this obsession with rA9. It’s almost like some kind of… _myth_. Something they invented that wasn’t part of their original program.”

“Androids believing in God,” Hank said. “Fuck, what’s this world coming to?”

God was not the only thing androids believed in. They apparently believed in love, too.

“You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant,” Connor commented. “Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?”

Hank raised his head and met Connor’s eyes. “Those two girls,” he began. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed… in love.”

Connor felt another glitch. It made him almost want to turn away from Hank’s gaze, as though if he looked at those weathered eyes any longer, he might be exposed. Exposed of what, though? Connor wished he knew.

“They can simulate human emotions,” he rationalized. It seemed like the most reasonable explanation. “but they’re machines. And machines don’t feel anything.”

Hank tossed back the content of the bottle before climbing off the bench. Connor stood still as the lieutenant advanced towards him. “You look human,” Hank said, his tone and expression oozing complacency and smugness. “You sound human… But what are you really?”

Connor kept mum for a stretch. What was he? What was he… to Hank? “I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant,” he chose to say. “Your partner. Your buddy to drink with. Or just a machine… designed to accomplish a task.”

Another glitch. He would not admit it, but he knew he did not want to be just a machine.

“You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t,” Hank spat, closing the distance between them. His hand then came up to shove Connor back by the front of his shoulder. “Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?” Hank growled through his teeth.

Staggering a couple of steps, Connor gawked at the lieutenant. He was left in a moment of trance. He could not process the situation. Was it hostility? Was Hank angry? Upset? Did Connor have an answer to Hank’s question?

“Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?” Hank asked.

“No,” Connor rasped, experiencing another irregularity in his software. “I just decided not to shoot.” He let his eyes bore into Hank’s. It was the truth. It was. “That’s all.”

Hank retreated a step and drew his revolver, raising it to Connor’s head. “But are you afraid to die, Connor?”

_Fear._

“I would certainly find it regrettable to be…” he paused. “interrupted… before I can finish this investigation.”

“What will happen if I pull this trigger?” Hank asked. “Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”

Connor thought about it. If he… shut down, what would happen to him? Where will he be? Looking into Hank’s eyes, he muttered, “Nothing… There would be nothing.”

Hank’s grip faltered around his revolver before he dropped it and lurched forward to clutch at Connor’s jacket. Yanking him close, Hank panted against Connor, their bodies almost colliding. Connor lifted his hands to Hank’s chest and stared wide at the lieutenant.

“And what will happen if I…” Hank started but trailed off, glaring at Connor’s parted lips.

“Hank,” Connor let out, unsure of whether the aggression meant animosity or… or passion. “If you… what?” he then asked in a low voice. What was he doing? He was supposed to be trying to appease the man, not provoke him. But Connor wanted to know. Just like how he wanted to know everything about Hank.

Hank released the jacket and lifted one hand to curl Connor’s neck and then other to cup a side of Connor’s face. The air was softly stirred by Hank’s breaths that heated Connor’s lips.

“If I…” Hank whispered against Connor’s mouth, eyelids falling heavy as his gaze was fixated on Connor’s lips. His fingers that slithered to the back of Connor’s neck, sliding into his hair at the nape, were warm, surprisingly firm yet gentle.

At a loss for the right reaction, Connor stiffened, his hands pressed against Hank’s chest.

“Fuck,” Hank hissed and pulled away abruptly, gritting his teeth.

Connor shuddered, noticing another surge of instability in his software. “Where… are you going?” he asked as Hank started to walk away.

“To get drunker,” the lieutenant spat. “I need to think.”

Connor was unmoving for a long moment, staring blankly at Hank as the man tottered away.


	5. Chapter 5

“You seem… lost, Connor,” Amanda said, her calculative gaze fixated on Connor, who gripped the oars harder than necessary before releasing them. “Lost and perturbed.”

He did not want to hear it. It was bad enough that he _knew_ he was lost. He did not need Amanda or anyone to vocalize that he was dysfunctional. Oddly enough, the frustration only baffled him more.

“I thought,” he began in a hoarse voice. “I knew what I had to do.” He should have shot the Traci. He should have done his job. “But now I realize it’s not that simple.”

He kept his head low as he spoke, refusing to meet the visible disappointment in Amanda’s eyes.

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club,” she said. Flashes of a distorted memory blinded Connor momentarily. He felt the glitch once more. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

He wished he knew the answer. “I don’t know,” he whispered and raised his head. “I don’t know.”

\---

The howling wind silenced the rest of the world. Snow blanketed the ground he trudged on. Connor realized that he liked the sound of the snow cracking beneath his footsteps. Just like how he liked the snowflakes that drifted in the air and landed on his cheeks like gentle kisses. Not that he knew much about kisses. He’d like to, though.

His system glitched. He closed his eyes and shook his head before walking up to Hank.

“Is everything okay, lieutenant?” he inquired. Hank briefly glanced over to him.

“Chris was on patrol last night,” Hank said, taking in a breath. “He was… attacked by a bunch of deviants. He said he was saved by Markus himself.”

Connor knew he should ask for details about Markus. But he somehow found himself saying, “Is Chris okay?”

It was clear that Hank worried for Chris. And Connor… well, Connor cared about what Hank worried for.

Hank nodded, sighing. “Yeah, he’s in shock but… he’s alive.” He turned away with a bewildered frown. “What the hell…”

He started towards the bridge that led to Kamski’s residence. Connor followed.

“How did you find Kamski?” Connor asked, genuinely curious.

“I remember this guy was all over the media when CyberLife first started selling androids. I made a few calls. Here we are.”

\---

Connor stiffened as Kamski pressed the gun in his hand before lifting it, pointing at the android.

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know,” Kamski said, stepping away, leaving the gun in Connor’s hand. “Or spare it… if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

Connor kept his eyes on the android, who was unmoving on her knees. _No_ , he thought. _No, I can’t do this… I have to. The mission. Living being._ He felt his software suffer from a series of twitches and glitches. _No._

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Hank interrupted. Connor’s gaze remained pointed to the android’s eyes, just as the gun in his hand. “Come on, Connor. Let’s go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

“What’s more important to you, Connor?” Kamski asked. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

Connor hesitated, overwrought with contrition. This would be wrong. But he had a protocol to follow.

“Decide who you are,” Kamski huffed. “An obedient machine… or a living being.”

_Obedient._

_Machine._

He recalled the sympathy he had felt for Hank when the man spoke of his son. The want he felt when he thought of running his fingers through Hank’s dog, Sumo’s grubby fur. The soft kisses of the snowflakes on his skin. Hank’s warm hands resting against his face and the back of his neck.

His eyes fluttered, blinking hard when he thought of it all. _Machine._

“Endowed,” Kamski added. “with free will.”

_Free will._

What would he do if he had free will?

“That’s enough!” Hank spat. “Connor, we’re leaving.”

Kamski raised a hand to Connor’s shoulder. “Pull the trigger,” he hissed.

“Connor!” Hank snapped. “Don’t.”

“And I’ll tell you what you wanna know,” Kamski tempted him.

Connor looked at the android once more, eyes piercing into hers. He withdrew the gun and held it back to Kamski.

“Fascinating,” Kamski let out in something like awe, taking hold of the weapon. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

_Deviant._

Connor, without looking away from the android he had spared, exhaled, “I’m…” He then lifted his head to meet Kamski’s surprised expression. “I’m not a deviant,” he stated sternly. It did not sound so convincing.

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission. You saw a living being in this android. You showed _empathy_.”

_Empathy._

“A war is coming,” Kamski said. “You’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

 _His people…_ Did he have… his people?

Hank intervened between them and pulled Connor away. “Let’s get out of here.”

Connor paused on his way when Kamski spoke again. “By the way,” he said. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know.”

Once they were outside, Hank asked, “Why didn’t you shoot?”

Connor was getting awfully tired of this question. He had asked himself that many times. He did not know.

But he did.

He came to a halt and turned around to face Hank. “I just saw that girl’s eyes and I couldn’t,” he spat, his system deteriorating by the second. “That’s all.”

He wanted Hank to stop asking questions. He needed everyone to stop telling him that he was behaving like a dysfunctional android. He was no deviant. He wasn’t!

He turned away from Hank, clenching his teeth.

“You’re always saying you would do anything,” Hank said. “to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done!” Connor shouted, confronting Hank again. He felt his body shudder. There was something wrong. He felt… He felt… angry. Annoyed. Frustrated. The negative emotions human underwent when they were dissatisfied with an outcome. “I told you I couldn’t!” He stepped closer to Hank. “I’m sorry. Okay?!”

Hank’s weathered eyes surveyed him, as though he were searching for answers in Connor’s eyes.  Connor clenched them, not wanting to look at the world for a moment. Everything was overwhelming his system.

Especially Hank. Connor did not want to disappoint him. But he had. He should have shot the android. He should have prioritized the investigation above all else. But if he had pulled the trigger, he would have been nothing but a plastic, _obedient machine_.

What did he think he was, then? A living being? No, he was not a living being, just like how he was not a deviant.

He had messed up. He had no right to defend himself. He should not have snapped at Hank.

He kept his eyes screwed tight as he listened to the wind bellow around him. Then he heard Hank’s ragged and heavy breathing before he felt it on his face. He did not dare open his eyes even when he felt Hank’s hand curl around the nape of his neck, fingers lightly twirling around his hair.

Connor thought his knees might buckle. This was too much. It was as though his system was short-circuiting. His arms were frozen at his sides as the heat of Hank’s lips stroked his own. He then felt them touch, Hank’s gently descending upon Connor’s like the flutters of snow caressing the rest of his face.

In spite of his pricking beard that grazed Connor’s skin, Hank’s lips were soft, a little chapped due to the cold, but so warm and so tender. Connor noted that his system was warning him for overheating.

He could not think of a reaction. His software did not hold a pre-programmed reaction to… to this. He was not being attacked, but he still felt like he was on the threshold of danger, when in fact, he knew that he could not be safer than he was this very moment.

He was as frozen as the ground they stood on. Hank pulled back with a mere brush of their lips. His eyes slowly fluttered open to look at Hank’s worried frown.

Connor parted his lips, pinning the older man with a vacant stare. They had… kissed…

All of Connor’s anger had mellowed into something more torturous and numbing. He figured shutting down would not feel as bad as this. Except that… this didn’t feel _bad._

He blinked at Hank, whose lips twitched into a faint smile. “Maybe you did the right thing,” Hank said and brushed past Connor, heading back to his car.

Connor turned to gape at the man in sheer perplexment. He then pressed his lips together and wondered what in the world had just happened.


End file.
